They say bad things occur in threes. My grandfather passed away late December, followed by my great grandmother earlier this month, and now my family's dog, Moose, was hit by a car last night.
We got Moose when I was a junior in high school - he was the fattest puppy of the bunch. He lived at my mom's house for a while, and then my niece, who was infatuated with him, took him to live at her house.
Moose was a great dog, who loved when you inserted his name into any Abba song and would do just about anything you wanted.
He loved getting a foot bath:
He loved my niece:
And he loved doing Glamour Shots with my sister & I:
We will miss you Moose!